


Better, Still

by emkayss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, emphasis on kind-of, friends to kind-of lovers to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkayss/pseuds/emkayss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>This Daichi — after-practice Daichi, — is the epitome of Koushi’s crush. It takes every ounce of willpower Koushi's ever had has to resist him, him and his maniacal grin, hair mussed from running his hand through it at every opportunity, flushed cheeks and warm skin, his usual scent mingled with sweat. Koushi usually wouldn’t be able to stand it, but he’s here anyway. He's Koushi's manic pixie dream boy, but minus the pixie and add a set of shoulders that are almost twice the width of Koushi's.</p>
  <p>Somehow, it’s turned out that this dork has been given the express responsibility of holding Koushi over the edge of a cliff, of fragmenting him into pieces he doesn't think he'll be able to put back together again, and then Koushi found himself falling, falling, flying in love with Daichi.</p>
  <p>And Daichi’s in love with him too, it seems. But neither of them know what to do about it</p>
</blockquote>Wherein Suga works at letting himself trust Daichi, and Daichi waits patiently along the sidelines.
            </blockquote>





	Better, Still

**Author's Note:**

> WOW. this took me much longer than I anticipated to finish, but I am beyond happy to have it off my shoulders. Thanks to [dids](http://archiveofourown.org/users/didsw/pseuds/didsw) for confirming that this actually makes sense and sending very encouraging messages on twitter!! 
> 
> Title is stolen from [better, still](https://100milehouse.bandcamp.com/track/better-still) by 100 mile house. The quote at the beginning is from Trust by Ski Lodge. 
> 
> Btw, suga has an anxiety attack a little past halfway through so, be warned, and feel welcome to skip if that'll make you uncomfortable. I believe he says "what's up" or something, and then there's a paragraph break after :) 
> 
> hope you guys enjoy!!

_can I trust in you? / tell me I can give you my heart / can I trust in you? / god, I hope you let me …_

.

Koushi could tell you everything you wanted to know about the day he unofficially fell in love with his best friend.

He could describe the way the wind blew through the trees, leaves trembling and flying and falling, how his chest tightened and how the wind sped up, blowing the words right out of Daichi’s mouth:

_I want to win with you._

If you wanted, Koushi could tell you the exact second the sun set, the rosy pinks and peachy oranges and light purples the sky glowed before it turned dark, before day sunk into night. 

He could even tell you when the sun rose the next morning, how it looked coming in from the window beside his bed. He could draw you a map of the stars, of constellations and connections and planets, of that sticky, inky void he called out to when it was decided that there was no way in hell sleep was ever going to introduce themselves that night. 

Koushi felt so small underneath all those stars, so insignificant, so worthless. It was so _addicting_ how perspective twirled above him, pirouetted and landed so lightly on its feet,grinning and smiling and _so_ delightfully ignorant of the boy caught up in its dance, eyes wide open and staring and he’s _caught._

Koushi finds sleep isn’t something he wants to catch.

.

There’s this certain sound that silence makes. It’s kind of a dull hum, somewhere between resounding and restrained. Once Koushi switches his light off and stumbles into bed, he counts the seconds until that low buzz floods his room. It’s like some kind of drug; it hacks away at his inhibitions until they’re transparent, draws beads of sweat to the surface of his skin.

And he’s _addicted_ to it. Addicted to the sweet taste of exhaustion under his tongue, clogging his pores and dragging his eyelids closed. 

It just so happens that Daichi’s sleep schedule is often just as fucked up as Koushi’s; late nights tend to end in conversations over text that leap right over the line that separates regular conversation from flirting. They say things they’d never have the guts to admit when it’s not two in the morning on a school night. _Would you ever date a guy? You know you have the best thighs on the team, right? Well, you’re the prettiest. I have dreams about your hair._

_Do you like anyone?_

It’s such an innocent statement, really, but Koushi is pretty sure he knows the answer Daichi's hoping for, pretty sure he's known for a while . Koushi can imagine Daichi asking in daylight, he can picture his smirk, the way the late afternoon sun lights one side of his face. It’s beyond easy to picture how it would feel to trace a finger around the sharp hinge of his jaw, or to slide his fingers in the warm hair at the nape of his neck. Koushi imagines himself tilting his face up to Daichi’s, he can hear himself whisper _no, I don’t have anyone on my mind._

In another world, that’s what Koushi would message back.

But here he is, stuck in this world. He can't do anything when the words fall from him like fat drops of rain. Sweat builds up under his arms and across his forehead, his room dark and quiet and empty of everything but the glow of his phone, casting his features in long, dark shadow, and that low hum that urges his fingers to finish the message. It must be the fastest thing he’s ever typed out.

_It’s you_

He presses send before he can get rid of it, before he can take it back. He types out another message, feels the words tripping over each other as they rush out his fingers, watches himself explain the last few months, apologize for how he's been acting.

_I like you, Daichi._

He doesn’t know if he feels like there’s this weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders, doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take a steady breath again without scrambling up to surface before his time runs out.

He _does_ know, however, that he feels like he just make a half-assed attempt at confessing to his best friend.

But, Koushi’s thinking, the icon popping up to tell him the person on the other side of the line is typing, he’s been wrong before. He’s pretty good at reading people but he doesn’t have a 100 percent success rate, he doesn’t - 

He phone buzzes, lighting up, telling him he has a new message.

Koushi grabs his phone, holding it facedown in one hand, the other tapping an unfamiliar pattern into his pyjama pants. He draws in all his breath, holds it, holds it, holds holds holds _holds._ He waits another second, and then flips his phone over and pushes the power button, the screen flashing with the new message.

_I like you too_

For a moment, everything stops, and then — 

_I think. I’m pretty sure. I think about kissing you a lot._

Koushi’s heart stops beating, his blood stops swirling, his muscles relax and his eyes close. It’s the middle of the night in Miyagi, there’s moonlight turning Koushi’s eyelids translucent, but somewhere, somewhere, there’s sun, there’s blue skies, there’s the waves beating the sand over and over, his heartbeat thudding over and over, blood hitting the surf. He draws in air through his nose, long and slow and until he physically can’t, he has to reach a hand up to block the sun from catching in his eyes.

And maybe there’s a hand that loops around his waist, pulling back towards the shade, thumbs massaging the muscles of his lower back that he’d never realized were aching for relief, eyes dark and heavy and so familiar, lips tipping up towards a smirk and whispering something that he can’t make out into his neck, his ear, the inside of his thigh.

He falls asleep before he can text back.

.

There’s feet pounding on the sidewalk behind him the next morning.

“Hey, Suga, wait! _Wait!”_ Daichi calls from somewhere behind him, but Suga doesn’t stop walking until a hand claps over his shoulder and turns him around.

Daichi’s lips are parted, pink and a little dry, and then he’s running his tongue over his bottom lip and he’s about to say something, but Koushi doesn’t think he’s going to be able to hear a word of it, not over the wind stirring the leaves to life,  or the sun hooking its arm over the early morning sky.

There’re some words lost between them, something about good morning _,_ something about last night, there’s a question that Koushi can’t quite catch and he nods.

And then Koushi feels every single muscle in his body clench when Daichi’s hand comes up to his neck, his finger just barely tracing the line of his jaw, thumb stroking the smooth skin beside his mouth for a moment that drips like honey until Daichi’s leaning in and his lips are on Koushi’s, not exactly warm, and not exactly soft, but he’s kissing him. _Kissing him._

This is everything Koushi’s wanted for years, no, that’s not right, this is nothing, _nothing,_ this is only a taste, only just a dream Koushi can’t recall when he tries to remember, when he wakes up and the sun is topsy-turvy and the moon is taunting him just before it sinks behind his neighbour’s roof. He can’t bring himself to return the kiss, though. He’s just standing there, somewhere between dumb and starstruck, with his hands rigid at his sides while Daichi curls a hand into the fabric of Koushi’s shirt at his hip and loses his fingers in his hair.

He’s about to push Daichi away when the hand in his hair slips down to his hip and a palm at the small of his back pushes him forward and towards Daichi and Koushi has dreamed this exact scenario, it’s played out in his head a thousand different ways, a million different times. Koushi cracks, breaks and wraps his arms around Daichi’s neck and urges him on, pulls him a little closer, reveling in the way his hair feels between his fingers and how Daichi sighs like the world’s just been taken off his shoulders when Koushi kisses him back.

But then something clicks, Daichi tilts his head just so to make Koushi’s breathing go too fast, and he’s scrambling to push Daichi away, tries to keep him at arms length

Koushi wants so desperately to rest his head on Daichi’s shoulder, to hold his hand, but it feels so illicit, so much like something he shouldn’t be doing. Daichi surges forward anyway, face flushed but head held high, barefaced and brazen, and slides his fingers through Koushi’s.

“Daichi–” Koushi starts, and he can’t help but to squeeze Daichi’s hands a little.

“Was that too much?” Daichi asks.

Koushi shakes his head. “No. No, Daichi, that wasn’t it at all, I’ve been dreaming about kissing you for months.” Koushi watches Daichi’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, deep brown eyes swimming in it.

“It’s just I don’t think I’m ready to kiss you. Not yet,” Koushi finishes, slowly, quietly, feeling his heart thundering in his chest.

Daichi nods, understanding.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks. He’s quiet, quieter than Koushi’s ever heard him, and he’s pretty sure if he looked, he could catch Daichi’s confidence leaking out his shoes.

“You are, dummy,” Koushi says, laughing, holding up all four of their entwined hands.

Daichi sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, looking contemplative and a little worried as he glances at their fingers. It only lasts a second, and then he’s grinning and pulling Koushi in the direction of school.

.

By the time they’ve pulled on their dingy practice shirts and double-knotted their shoelaces, Daichi and Koushi are late. When they walk into the gym, everyone’s already started stretching, Kageyama and Hinata arguing over who’s going to help the other first, Noya and Tanaka having some kind of competition over who can reach their arm the farthest. Asahi’s running over to maybe do something to stop Noya from hurting himself when Koushi closes the door behind him.

“Daichi-san! Suga-san!” Hinata yells, darting between people and barely coming to a stop at Daichi and Koushi's feet. “Where were you guys?”

Daichi lifts his hand to scratch at something behind his ear, opening his mouth, preparing to come up with some kind of hilariously unbelievable excuse. _We found a stray cat. There was a missing toothbrush in the middle of the road. Suga accidentally swallowed the key to the club room._

“Daichi forgot his assignment for contemporary lit at home, so we went back to get it.” Koushi says, calm, cool, collected, not what he’s feeling inside. Daichi nods, crossing his arms over his chest, daring anybody to question it. Koushi doesn’t miss the look Asahi shoots him.

“We’re sorry. It’s never gonna happen again, guys.” Daichi adds, bowing his head. “Now, let’s get outside; it’s the perfect morning for a long run!”

Suga and Daichi usher everybody out, falling behind as everybody else jogs ahead. They don’t talk, just let their legs circle through the repetitive motions of running, listen to the tap tap tap of their shoes hitting the asphalt, breathing that gets louder as they crest a hill, wind tunneling through the tightly packed buildings and lifting Koushi’s hair up and away from his forehead.

Practice runs smoothly, or about as smoothly as it ever does. Daichi claps his hands, calling practice. Koushi watches him rest his hand on Hinata’s shoulder as he explains something to him. Hinata nods firmly, says thank you, and jogs to catch up to Kageyama. Koushi heads over to the side of the gym to grab his water bottle, and isn’t all that surprised when Daichi slings an arm around his shoulder, grumbling happily about something, and pulls him in the direction of the door.

.

This Daichi, after-practice Daichi, is the epitome of Koushi’s crush. It takes every ounce of willpower Koushi's ever had has to resist him, him and his maniacal grin, hair mussed from running his hand through it at every opportunity, flushed cheeks and warm skin, his usual scent mingled with sweat. Koushi usually wouldn’t be able to stand it, but he’s here anyway. He's Koushi's manic pixie dream boy, but minus the pixie and add a set of shoulders that are almost twice the width of Koushi's.

Somehow, it’s turned out that this dork has been given the express responsibility of holding Koushi over the edge of a cliff, of fragmenting him into pieces he doesn't think he'll be able to put back together again, and then Koushi found himself falling, falling, _flying_ in love with Daichi. 

And Daichi’s in love with him too, it seems. But neither of them know what to do about it.

.

“He kissed me this morning,” Koushi mutters as soon as Daichi’s turned the corner and is out of earshot.

Asahi’s eyes go wide and his lips part and his lunch doesn't quite make it all the way to his mouth. “He did _what?”_

Koushi wants to believe it didn't mean anything, that it was just kiss and there was nothing else to it. _But a kiss isn’t ever just a kiss,_ he reminds himself, _it means something!_ But this can't mean anything, _it can't,_ or it's going to drive him positively insane. “I don’t know, I kissed him back. But I stopped it.”

“I thought we wanted to be kissing Daichi …” Asahi says, frowning. “Did your agenda change? Did I not get that memo?”

Suga shrugs again; he's been shrugging a lot lately, it's like his life has turned into one noncommittal roll of his shoulders. “I just don't really want to kiss him yet?”

Asahi nods, finishing the conversation just as Daichi bounds around the corner and plants himself on the grass beside Koushi.

“I think I've been spending too much time with Kageyama,” Daichi starts, tearing open the straw for his milk with his teeth. “I don't think I've ever craved milk before.”

“Is that what you went to get? Milk?” Suga asks, grinning where Asahi is incredulous. All those poor first years who look up to Daichi as this fearless leader are _sorely_ mistaken. 

Daichi nods, and spears the straw through the top of the box. He leans into Koushi's side, taking a long gulp as he rests his head on Koushi's shoulder.

“I'm so tired. Why'd you have to keep me up so late last night?” Daichi mutters, voice muffled by Koushi's shoulder and the straw between his teeth.

Koushi fights the urge to shrug again - both to protect Daichi’s clothes from milk spills and because he’s just decided to make it his life goal to never shrug again - and ends up arranging his head on top of Daichi's instead of an answer. It's kind of awkward, and it's kind of uncomfortable, but Koushi finds he doesn't exactly mind.

.

If you were to ask, Koushi would tell you things've changed since this sequence of events has started. 

He’d tell you Daichi laces his fingers through his on the way to practice in the morning, the barely risen sun on their backs pushing them forward like a mother urging her child to take their first steps. Koushi catches Daichi's long looks, catches them and winks, and Daichi's blush may or may not be visible on the other side of the gym.

There's still no kissing, no touching, no _I love yous_ or heartfelt confessions. Koushi's still waiting for something, for who knows what, he's waiting for some kind of divine sign from Olympus to tell him he's ready to put all of his trust and all of his love in one person with eyes the colour of black coffee and skin the colour of summer and tea Koushi’s poured too much milk in. 

Maybe not that much has changed.

.

Koushi organizes game night just when he remembers he needs a break. It's something him and Asahi and Daichi have been doing since their first year, something they do when they need to talk aimlessly about something other than volleyball or which math questions need to be done.

He loads up on junk food, pulls what he knows is Daichi's favourite board game out of the cupboard, and clears a spot in his room. Koushi's fluffing up pillows when he hears a knock on the door and his mom ushering someone in and smoothing her hands down the front of their jacket and making some kind of remark about their height.

A second later there's a knock at his door, and then Daichi's poking his head through the gap.

“I thought I was running late but, I mean, I made here before Asahi.” Daichi says, stepping over the open game board and folding his legs up underneath him as he sits down beside Suga at the foot of his bed.

“Asahi texted me a while ago saying he was going to be late. Something about Noya and a cake.” 

Daichi nods appreciatedly; if there's anyone who understands whatever's going on between Asahi and Noya, it's Daichi and Koushi. They’ve been running around in the same circles Daichi and Koushi have been, a game of _we both like each other_ , but too scared to say anything. 

Idle conversation turns into idle silence, and it’s just about to run out the cracks of Koushi's door when there's another knock downstairs, and then Asahi's lumbering up the stairs and letting himself in. He puts his hands up to explain, but Koushi beats him to it:

“So, what are we playing first?”

.

Daichi's eyelids start to fall during game number three. They're all past the point of tired, past the point of exhausted, so Koushi's not exactly surprised when Daichi steals a pillow from the vast collection on his bed, stuffs it in Koushi's lap, and then settles his head there.

“Suga. Move my piece three spaces, please.” Daichi mumbles, bringing his legs up so he can curl around them.

Koushi leans forward just enough to pick up Daichi's guy and move it - he counts out loud, _one, two, three_ \- before settling back against his bed. Asahi rolls and moves. Koushi takes his turn, then ends up going for Daichi, too, because Daichi's barely able to keep his eyes open.

Asahi wins by a huge margin, which makes sense because he was the only one paying attention. Koushi ends up forgetting the rules and learning what it feels like to run his hands through Daichi's hair, to trace his finger over the shell of his ear. His skin is soft and warm and familiar and everything Koushi'd ever thought it'd be plus a little extra.

The game finishes, and Asahi excuses himself, thanks Koushi for inviting him. Koushi sends him an apologetic look; he hadn't meant for Daichi to curl up in his lap, in fact, Koushi called game night to help get his mind off of Daichi.

The door shuts softly behind him, and then Daichi's rolling over, stretching his arms over his head and letting his eyes open.

“So?” Daichi yawns. “What’s next?”

“Bed,” Koushi says, and now he’s yawning too.

Koushi can barely hear the okay Daichi mumbles into the pillow as he rolls back on his side and closes his eyes, and before either of them know it Daichi’s snoring again.

“No, Daichi, I meant lets get _in_ bed, come _on,_ don’t fall asleep on me,” Koushi starts, shaking him awake.

Daichi nods, blinking slowly. He sits up a little too fast, and Koushi has to lay a hand on his shoulder to keep him from tipping over. They lumber up to their feet, and Koushi reaches his hands in the air and tips to the side to try and get his spine in its original position.

He heads over to his dresser and pulls out two old shirts, and throws one in Daichi's direction. Daichi catches and makes moves to peel his shirt off.

"Is this gonna fit?” He asks, unfolding the shirt Koushi gave him and holding it up to his chest.

“It's your shirt,” Koushi answers, pulling his own shirt over his head. “You left it here a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Daichi says, putting the shirt on, and stumbles in the general direction of Koushi’s bed.

He flops down on top of the covers, and Koushi slaps him on the shoulder so he’ll shuffle underneath. Koushi pulls back the covers, Daichi just barely making it in before his head hits the pillow, and he’s asleep again.

Koushi arranges himself so his back is pressed flush against the heat of Daichi’s chest. He’s so warm and so _solid,_ so perfectly content to fall asleep with someone in his arms. 

Daichi makes some kind of contented noise in his sleep and buries his head into Koushi’s neck, throwing one of his arms over his waist in the process.

Every time they curl up like this Koushi tries to stay awake as long as he can so can fully appreciate Daichi’s arms around him, but it’s just that same thing that urges sleep to take Koushi that much sooner, so warm and _so_ content.

.

Koushi's room is sparse, minimal. He makes a conscious effort to keep it that way, lining books up on shelves and filling colourful boxes with anything else. It helps him keep his head clear. To keep his space neat is to keep his mind clear. His bed is made, his sheet flat and crisp, an extra blanket folded on the shelf above his bed. 

Koushi's room embarrasses him. He doesn't really know why, he knows it doesn't make sense. It's just the room where he keeps his stuff and sleeps, but whenever Daichi's there it's like he's hyper-conscious of everything, of the old figurines lined up on his dresser, of the laundry hamper in the corner, of his choice of blanket, bedspread, duvet, pillow, curtain. Of how he’s chosen to express himself.

When he tells Daichi, he laughs and sinks a little deeper into Koushi's bed and curls a little tighter around him and tells him that's _such_ a Suga thing to say, _but come on, Suga, it's your room, it's your place, it's you._ The place in Koushi's heart for Daichi grows a little bit bigger when he says that. 

But the part reserved for Daichi is already overflowing; it spills a little into the place in his heart for himself.

Daichi's right, of course; his room is where he gets to put himself on display, where he gets to be who ever he wants. He can be a secret shoujo manga enthusiast. He can be the gay vice-captain of the mens’ volleyball team. He can be himself and hide in plain sight. He can be a little crazy about where everything goes. He can be whoever he wants.

.

“No, Daichi, you’ve got to multiply it by negative one _first_ or the whole thing won’t work,” Koushi says, writing out the problem Daichi’s stuck on in his own notebook so he can do a better job of explaining. 

“Okay, but why do you have do that in the first place? This doesn’t make any sense.” Daichi leans back on his hands, groaning. He’s the kind of person that always makes a valiant effort to do math homework without every really understanding exactly what’s going on. It catches up on him sometimes.

“Because you have to assume it’s negative, and you make it negative by multiplying by negative one,” Koushi tries. 

“Let’s take a break.” Daichi says, and they’ve done enough work that Koushi can handle a break.

And then Daichi’s leaning forward suddenly, shadows that were framing his cheekbones a second ago falling on the textbook open to some forgotten page and Koushi’s brought back to the present, kicked out of his head. There’s a hand resting on his thigh and the other on the bed beside it. Koushi brings his hand up to hold Daichi’s jaw, not daring to move his fingers. He lets his other hand fall on Daichi’s beside his thigh.

Daichi’s looking at him, looking through him, asking silently: _Can I do this? Can I kiss you? Is this okay?_ Koushi doesn’t answer, he just flicks his eyes down to Daichi’s parted lips, he gathers all his courage in one hand and all his crazy in the other, and he surges forward, slowly, slowly, so slowly and then they’re kissing. They’ve kissed before, in Koushi’s dreams, the ones Daichi’s been leaving on his cheek like a scarlet letter when he says goodnight.

And the kiss on the sidewalk, oh so many months ago, and that kiss barrels out of Koushi’s head like a freight train, because this. _This._

This kiss is lazy. Slow. Languid. They draw it out, suck at each other's lips until the other groans. Long, slow, open-mouthed kisses that feel like they're lasting forever when you're in them, that leave you breathing hard and like your body is about to break into too many pieces to count when they're done. Kisses that somehow press Koushi into his mattress and draw Daichi out of his shirt and convince him to work Koushi out of his.

“Ah, Daichi?” Koushi says, reeling, trying to pull his head out of the clouds.

Daichi looks up from where he's straddling Koushi legs, and even he's looking visibly flustered, chest bare and short hair sticking up in the back. He sits up and looks a little guilty down at Koushi beneath him, with his shirt pulled up to just above his abdomen (Which Daichi did) and the bright pink skin, equal parts flushed and abused from kissing. (Which Daichi also did.)

“Uh. Yeah? Suga?”

Koushi thinks about telling him to stop, to pull away, to pull his shirt back on and finish their math homework. But he doesn't, he shakes his head, tells Daichi it's nothing, then sits up a little so he can pull the rest of his shirt off. He grabs Daichi and pulls him down and back to his lips. Daichi laughs and Koushi melts. Koushi melts and then Daichi’s working down his jaw and neck, and Koushi tilts his head backwards because there’s nothing else he can do except run his hands down Daichi’s back, feel the bumps where his spine is, where nerve endings meet and connect the tips of his fingers to his brain, hoping his touch sparks all the way down to Daichi’s toes. Koushi pulls Daichi back up to him, back up to his lips, and Daichi’s grinning against Koushi’s lips. 

He can’t help but grin back.

.

Koushi knows something’s up when Daichi keeps him after practice. He doesn’t make it obvious, thank god, he just quietly asks if they could talk about something before they make their way home. He nods, tells Daichi that of course he’ll talk to him, but he can feel his stomach working itself into knots as he pulls his practice shirt over his head, and takes a last swallow from his water bottle before Daichi ushers Tanaka and Noya out and closes the club door behind him.

“So,” Koushi starts. “What’s up?”

Daichi doesn't turn around to face him right away. He waits; he pauses and blinks once and turns, and Koushi recognizes the way his shoulders are set, remembers it from when he has to deliver a difficult speech, that he's working himself up to say something.

He opens his mouth, and the questions Daichi’s about the ask, the _explanations_ he’s about to demand are clogging any space left between them. 

There it is, Daichi's asking him _what's going on?_ _What's between us?_ like he's holding out his hands, palms up, the creamier, smoother skin of his wrists that matches the tan on Koushi's forearms catching the light slanting through the window. _You like me, right?_ The words are spilling over one another, coming out too quickly, and Koushi has to backtrack, he has to stop running and try to plant his feet on solid ground.

It's all Koushi has to not fall to his knees and pull Daichi close and tell him that he's liked, maybe even loved, him since before he was a fixture in Koushi's dreams, sometime forever ago, that he’s pretty sure there’ll be constellations dotting the night sky with his name on them, people telling their grandkids stories of the great _Sawamura Daichi._  

He nods instead.

Daichi takes a step towards him, but he stops, he’s an arms length away again, and Koushi can feel everything Daichi’s thinking, everything he’s questioning, congealing and turning into something tangible, something Koushi could reach out and touch if he wanted. 

“So what are we? What are we, Suga?” Daichi asks, feet barely touching the ground. 

“I don’t know, Daichi.” 

“Could we be something?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” 

Daichi breaths in then, quiet and low and halting, his eyes on the ground, his weight shifting from foot to foot. 

“What can I do? What can I do to make us something?” Daichi says, his voice more of a croak than anything else. “I want to be something with you, Suga, I’ve waited for so long, and you’re ready, I’m ready, and —”

Daichi takes a deep breath, long and slow and he closes his eyes before he says, “What’s going on with us?”

Koushi scoffs. “I don’t know, Daichi. You tell me. You explain to me why you’ve been too afraid to make whatever the _fuck_ is between us real, why you keep _kissing me_ and _holding my hand._ It’s torture. I swear to _god,_ Daichi, it’s _torture.”_  

Daichi opens his mouth as if he’s going to respond. Koushi can see it in his eyes, stuck deep in that never-ending brown, that he’s had absolutely no idea what he’s done. It hasn’t occurred to him that his attempts at making something out of what used to be nothing aren't working quite like he'd hoped.

“Just tell me, Suga. Please.”

Koushi's pretty sure this the farthest they've ever been from each other, that the couple feet separating them now transcends any other distance, even though he’s close enough that he can discern the change in Daichi's expression, his posture as he tries and tries to form whatever Koushi's saying into something that he can hold in one hand.

“I'm trying. Can't you just understand that _I'm trying?_ That I'm trying to understand who I am and what you mean to me and what that means and it's really, _really_ hard, and here I am, _here I am,_ trying to explain it to you before I can even explain it to myself,” Koushi says, putting everything he's built around himself on the table, he's advertising a show with free admission for the world to see. “It took me a long time for me even let myself love you, let alone _tell you.”_

Koushi's chest is full of something, of who knows what, and whatever it is is making it harder and harder to keep his fingers from shaking anymore than they already are, to not draw his breath in in one lone and loud, stuttering and shaking breath. To keep his face looking presentable while the rest of him crumbles.

His eyes are watering and blurry so he can't see when Daichi moves towards him, can't hear what Daichi's saying to him over the ringing in his ears. His nose is running and he really really doesn't want to sniffle, or bring his hand up to wipe his nose. (Yes, even Koushi can droop so low.)

His lungs start pumping air harder and faster, and it's loud, _so_ loud, it's the only thing Suga can hear, and oh God, he's losing it, right here, in front of Daichi, who's looking at him all disgusted (confused) and horrified (worried). Suga's panicking and there's nothing anybody in the whole of the world can do. Anybody in the universe, and Suga's one to look at the stars.

It's Daichi's hands on his shoulders that bring him back to reality.

“…Suga? Are you okay? Jesus, Suga, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, Suga, can you hear me? Koushi?”

Koushi can feel his mouth open, or at least he thinks it's his mouth, but he can't say anything. He's incapable of forming a single coherent thought, a word that has any kind of basis in language. He looks at Daichi instead, and Daichi looks like he's just run over an animal, he looks scared, terrified, even. He’s mirroring what Koushi’s thinking, what he’s scared Daichi sees sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry.” Koushi manages. His voice sounds muffled, like he's underwater. He blinks a couple times to see if he can clear his vision. He can’t.

“Suga. You're clearly not fine. What's going on?”

Koushi takes a shaky breath. He can't explain this right now, he can barely preform basic bodily functions, can barely fill his lungs up with air, let alone explain how fucked up he is to his best-friend-almost-boyfriend.

“Daichi – I'm sorry – I just can't do this right now, I'll tell you, I promise, but you're going to have to wait. I can't do this right now.”

Daichi nods solemnly. “I trust you, Koushi.” He looks down at his feet. Says quietly, “Do you want me to go?”

Koushi hates himself for it, because it's Daichi and he should be able to trust him with anything, should be able to tear the world apart for him, but he nods. Koushi nods, and he sniffles, and Daichi leans over and presses a kiss to his forehead and backs out the club room with no goodbye, no nothing, only a sad smile. Suga listens for the front to door to close, waits until he knows Daichi isn’t going to push the door open and demand an explanation. He wraps himself in his jacket and buries his head in his bag and waits for his heartbeat to slow down.

.

Koushi kicks his shoes off at the door and climbs the stairs to his room, not even bothering to unzip his jacket before groaning and falling face-first into bed.

There’s a knock at his door a few minutes later, and Koushi's mom opens the door without waiting for any kind of assent. She closes the door behind her, leans up against it, barely tilting her head as she watches her son roll over onto his side.

“Oh, Kou-chan, sweetie,” She mumbles, pushing herself off the door and coming to sit on the edge of his bed. Koushi tries to smile at her, tries to pull his features into something resembling a smile, but it’s his mom and she’s got those special mom-glasses and can see right through him. She reaches forward and pushes his hair back from his forehead in a very mom-like manner, and leans down to press her lips to Koushi's skin.

“Something happen with Daichi-kun?” She whispers into his hairline.

But he does his best job of a nod, and coughs to clear his throat. “He asked about us and I freaked.”

His mom pulls away, a pensive look pulling her eyebrows together. “And?”

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to him when I’m ready.”

She nods slowly. “And when are you going to be ready?” 

“I don’t know, but he didn’t know there’s something wrong with me. Now he does. Daichi’ll understand that I need to tell him when I’m ready.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you.” She presses, and Koushi catches something that looks a little bit like concern, a little bit like pity flash over her face. He knows because he recognizes the way her skin pulls into the same lines his does when he's helping Hinata bandage something up, pulling something out of Tanaka’s hand.

“There is! You can’t deny that, mom! He’s been my best friend for years, and I've loved him for _years,_ and-” Koushi rambles, choking on his words before he can even get them out. “He loves me. He _loves me_ , mom, and _I can’t bring myself to believe him_. _”_

“I don’t want to argue with you, but you’re not going to find this any easier until you get that this isn’t something that makes you broken. You don’t need to be fixed, Koushi.”

Koushi accepts temporary defeat and leans back into bed.

“Just talk to Daichi, honey. He’ll get it,” She says softly, before pulling Koushi in for a hug. “God, Koushi, I love you so much. And I know you’re gonna figure this out. You always do.”

Koushi nods again, but he's not entirely convinced he can dig himself out of this one.

.

Koushi's mom is right; he’s been putting this off for years, and Daichi deserves the stars and the moon, he deserves anything Koushi can manage to give him. He deserves to know. So Koushi pulls out his phone.

_can you come over tonight?_

Daichi’s response comes almost instantly:

_is after dinner ok?_  

He texts back a simple _yep!_

Daichi’s _see you then. love you._ comes not moments later.

.

“Hey,” Koushi says when he’s close enough to whisper.

Daichi spins around to face him. “So what do you want to talk to me about? I’m all ears.”

Koushi loops his arm through Daichi’s and pulls him along the sidewalk at first, and it’s a tiny bit awkward before Koushi relaxes, remembers it’s Daichi and he’ll love him anyway. Daichi doesn’t press him to answer, and Koushi loves that, and he loves Daichi.

They walk in silence for a while, Koushi guiding Daichi up city blocks, dusk diffusing the light into a layer cake of colours, barely blue, barely pink, dusting everything in this rosy hue, casting any detail in a long shadow.

When Koushi starts talking, it’s slow, because he’s walking himself through this just as much as he’s walking Daichi through it, and Daichi nods, just as understanding as Suga convinced himself he wouldn’t be. They sit down at a cafe eventually, Daichi pressing something warm and steaming into Koushi’s numb fingers.

He takes a sip of what he finds out is hot chocolate before telling Daichi he’s sorry.

Daichi’s eyebrows dip in confusion. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” 

Koushi shakes his head before Daichi can continue. 

“Yeah, Daichi, I do. I led you on when I wasn’t ready, and I never told you what was going on. God, I never wanted any of this to happen, Daichi, I have to apologize.” 

And then it’s time for Daichi to shake his head. “Okay, maybe you did lead me on a little, but that’s okay because you’re seventeen and you’re figuring out who you are and I -- I just want to be able to help you out however I can because you’re my best friend and I, god, _I love you,_ Suga.”

Koushi’s quiet after that, but he sets his mug down on the table and reaches across to take Daichi’s hands. 

Maybe it’s not all quiet, because Koushi can’t help but whisper “I love you so much, Daichi. _So much.”_  

Daichi nods fiercely, obviously on the brink of tears and tightens his grip on Koushi’s fingers. 

Koushi doesn’t have a chance to finish his hot chocolate.

.

They’re on their way back to Daichi’s street when Koushi stops walking. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” he whispers. “I didn’t know how to verbalize it, I guess. Didn’t know how you’d take it.”

Daichi nods, understanding as ever, and doesn’t press any further. Instead, he smiles, small and warm and honest. 

“Don’t worry about it, Suga. I’m glad you told me.” 

“I’m glad I told _you,_ ” Koushi counters, smiling, pushing his feet towards Daichi’s so their toes can touch through their shoes.

.

Sunset, inevitably, falls into night. 

It’s quiet, like it always is, not drawing any attention to itself. The night is a tall glass of water, clear and cloudless and essential. 

Daichi and Koushi weave through streets and alleys until they find themselves on a familiar one, the stars and moon on their backs. They slow down when they reach the stairs leading up to Daichi’s house, and before Koushi can pull away, Daichi tugs him in so his forehead is resting on Koushi’s and he snakes a hand behind him to rest on the small of his back. 

Koushi smiles and brings up both of this arms to rest on Daichi’s shoulders, and they’re silent for a second as their eyes meet and Daichi’s fingers move to Koushi’s waist and they’re tilting their chins, moving in complete and utter unison, soft and just what Koushi’d always hoped his first kiss would be like, but it’s a little better because both of them kind of know what they’re doing and it’s with who he suspects is the love of his life.

They do have to pull apart after a minute or two, to breath, to laugh at the sheer perfection the universe had the thought to put together for them at that exact moment. 

“Could I ask you what we are now?” Daichi says, a little giddy, but still a little careful. 

“I think you could say we’re dating,” Koushi replies, before leaning back in to kiss the corner of Daichi’s mouth. 

“Is that a deal, Sawamura?” he whispers, and Koushi can feel the stars in his eyes. He can see them in Daichi’s.

_“Deal.”_  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://emkayss.tumblr.com/) and I post a lot of snippets from my fic (among other things) on my [twitter!](http://twitter.com/miramool/)
> 
> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!!! :) :) :)


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